Senga: Stuck in the Middle with you
by Just Jamie
Summary: Set after my original Senga story, and during the next part of Buffy: War with the Gods coming soon Enjoy.


Senga: In the middle of it.

"Whit the hell is gaun on oot here?" Senga threw open the door of her flat to be confronted by a gang, all wearing scarves over their faces. Battering on the door of Senga's next door neighbour. "Whit dae ye 'hink ye'r dain?"

"Feinian bitch." The lead thug shouted as he let loose another kick at the opposite door.

"You're wan o' us Senga, how can you live next tae wan o' these catholic bitches?"

"She's an auld wummin ya fanny. Leave her alane." Senga grabbed the ned nearest to her and threw him bodily up the stairwell, he made a satisfying thud noise as he landed. "Now piss off. The lot o' ye's." Senga practically roared. Stunned the neds turned to face her, almost on cue, the door to her neighbours flat opened, and there stood the 91 year old Mrs Henderson, and there fell the lead ned, screaming in agony.

Mrs Henderson advanced on her would be attackers, armed with a spray deodorant and a cigarette lighter. "Die ya wee heathen bastards. Burn now, then burn in hell!"

"Bugger me." Senga shouted as she lunged to the floor. More screams echoed up and down the tenement building, as the neds started to run down the stairwell, or crawling, in the case of the one who had been nearest to Mrs Henderson's door.

"An' if ye's come back, ye'll get merr o' the same, ya wee nyaffs." Mrs Henderson screamed down the stairs after them. "Aw, Senga hen. Are you awright sweetheart. Did they bastards hurt ye?"

"Naw. I'm fine Mrs Henderson. Ah wiz merr worried fur you, but it looks like ye can still handle yersel'. "

"Aye, well. Ah've lived through two wars, it'll take merr than those wee bastards to knock me aff." The old woman laughed, but the laugh developed into a hacking cough.

"Right come oan Mrs Henderson, you need yer oxygen. Is ye'r home help no due up soon?" Senga put her arm around the shoulder of the old woman and walked slowly towards the her neighbours still open door."

As soon as Senga stepped through the door, she noticed the smell. Incense, lots of it. It must have been burning in each and every room in the flat. "It helps me." Mrs Henderson said, noticing the wrinkling of Senga's nose. "I got the scents from my priest, they're really restfull." Senga sniffed again, she didn't believe anyone could rest with this sickly sweet smell around the place.

"Aye, it's very nice Mrs Henderson." Senga lied, "Now where's your oxygen thing?" Mrs Henderson slowly walked towards her lounge. Once through the narrow doorway, Senga spotted the Oxygen cylinder. "Noo, you just sit right therr Mrs H. I'll get the thing gaun fur ye'." Senga helped the woman lower herself into a large armchair, with a lace adorned throw draped over the back, then walked over to the tank, sitting in the corner of the room. Senga lifted the tank easily, despite it's size. Even now, almost two weeks after finding out that she was a slayer, her strength still surprised her.

"Heh." Mrs Henderson laughed. "You been building up muscles Senga? Not very ladylike." Mrs Henderson's laugh became raspy, as it progressed and died. Senga smiled as she placed the mask over the old woman's mouth, and heard her inhale, a raspy, but improving sound. "Ye're wan o' the good yins young Senga." The old woman's voice came in a whisper from under the mask. "For a Proddy, ye're a good lass. I'll say a prayer fur ye. The Lord will forgive ye yer transgressions." The old woman's voice grew a little stronger, as a wry smile grew across her face. Senga smiled back, an insincere smile, but Mrs Henderson didn't seem to notice.

Back in her own flat, Senga just sat on the couch, staring at the television. The box reflected Senga's face. An angry, concerned look etched upon it. A loud knock on the door roused her from her contemplation. She stood, and during the short walk to the door, she wondered who it could possibly be. She threw open the door, given her recent adventures her defensive posture was understandable, but Jean still flinched slightly as the door opened.

"Jeezo Senga. D'ye mind no dae'n 'at?" Jean yelped at her friend. "Ye took years aff ma life." Jean staggered past her friend, noticing that Senga did not relax any, and kept watch, up and down the shared stairwells until Jean was safely through the door, then slammed it shut. "Whit's up Senga? Ye've never been this oan edge before. No' even when Azazeal wiz efter ye."

"There's something gaun on Jean. There's dodgy stuff, an' a don't like it." Senga was again interrupted by a noise from the door. A key was turning, her father was returning. Early. "Whit's up da'?" Senga shouted.

"Turn oan the TV Senga. The whole world's gone mad lately." Senga hit the button on the remote control as her father darted into the room.

"In further news, we are receiving sketchy reports that there has been a nuclear detonation near the city of Jerusalem. We have been unable to contact anyone near the area to corroborate this, but Tony Blair's office has announced that they will be holding a press conference at 6pm to discuss the situation. At this time we can only wait and speculate as to this escalation of recent disturbing world events."

Senga flicked for the TV to be silenced, a stunned silence filled the room. "Whit the hell is gaun oan?" Jean gasped.

"Ah don't know Jean. It's happening' a' o'er the world. It's like every religion wants to kill a' the others." Senga's father replied. "Two people, Ah've known fur years tried to kill each other the day. Ah couldn't believe it. They went tae school the gather, and then th'day they were at each others throats."

Use of the word throat, immediately seized Senga's attention, but then she relaxed. Her father had taken a day shift position, to lessen any danger from 'that kind of thing' as his father had taken to calling the vampire threat. "It's the end o' the world apparently." Senga declared.

She looked over at her father and her dearest friend as they looked at her, stunned even more by this declaration. "Ah called Willow earlier oan th'day. It seems it really is the Apocalypse. Her mob are tryin' to work out how to put a stop to it before we a' die.

"You're no' serious ur ye?" Her father looked at Senga, an almost pleading look on his face. Senga glanced at Jean, her face was almost a mirror for her fathers. Layered with doubt, fear, dread, but over all of that, they both looked at Senga, as though she was the only one in the world who could save them. For all Senga knew, they were right. Or maybe dead wrong. That thought was the one that filled her with dread. What if she couldn't save her family? What if she let them die? What if the world died, because she didn't know what to do?

The silence was broken by shouting from the street outside. Angry shouting. Bellows that echoed up the stairwell from ground level of the building. Senga knew instantly, "They're after Mrs Henderson again!"

"Again?" Her father asked.

"Aye, a gang o' neds tried to kill her earlier, she did some damage wi' her deodorant and a lighter, so they ran away." Senga didn't have time to look at the dumbfounded faces of her friend and father. She walked to the window and drew aside the blinds to look at what amounted to an image of Hell.

A mob had formed, an angry mob. Screaming and baying for blood. Catholic blood by the sound of it. The Orange lodge's "band" had been dragged out in the middle of November. They were drawing their usual unthinking mob of supporters, Senga thought to herself.. "Bloody idiots. They'll kill her!"

"Ah think that's the general idea." Jean's voice, no louder than a whisper came from Senga's shoulder. "They look mad. Ah don't mean angry either, ah mean Mad, wi' a capital M!" Jean's voice never managed to rise above a terrified whisper, but the anger was bubbling, just under the surface, ready to explode. Then, it did. "Ya dozy wee cow!" Jean shouted at the window. Senga tried to follow her gaze. Her eyes fell upon the sight of Jean's mother forming a substantially sized portion of the mob.

Before Jean's ranting could continue, the sound of breaking glass rang out from nearby. Senga let her eyes find the source of the noise, she saw a large flaming shape dropping from Mrs Henderson's window. Senga didn't know where the feeling came from, but she knew, absolutely KNEW, what was coming. She grabbed Jean and flew in the direction of her father, grabbing him as she flew. The three landed heavily in the hallway, mere seconds before there was a spectacular explosion outside, shattering every window at the front of the flat. Making the entire building tremble. "Her bloody Oxygen tank. How in the name o'… Naw, I'm no' even sure there is a God right now, so I'm no asking him any'hing. But how did she manage to pick that thing up?"

"Whit?" Jean shouted, her ears still ringing from the explosion.

"It wiz her oxygen tank!" Senga shouted back.

"Huh?" The voice was her fathers, from under Jean.

"Mrs Henderson. She set her tank on fire and flung it oot the windae." Even as she spoke, Senga couldn't' believe it. But then, after what happened earlier, she was approaching the point where she was ready to believe anything.

Senga was soon on her feet again. She looked down at the others. "You two stay here OK? Ah don't want youze getting yersel's hurt." Senga could see the hurt and fear in the eyes of her loved ones. This strengthened her resolve. This was going to end. One way or the other.

Striding to the door, she heard a shuffling from behind her. She turned to see her father standing up, supported slightly by the slightly more spry Jean. "We're comin' wi' ye Senga. Whit kind o' faither would I be if I let my only daughter go oot into that on her ain?"

Senga opened her mouth to object, when she was silenced by Jean. "Haud it you. When the whole Azazeal thing happened, we agreed that we'd be in this to the end. If this is the end, I want to be wi' you for it." Tears welled in Jean's eyes as she spoke, "ye're ma best pal Senga, I'm no gonnae let you face this aw by yersel'." The resolute look on Jean's face echoed the determined tone of her voice.

"Awright. Senga said. Just don't go lookin' for trouble. Chances are, enough o' it will be lookin' for us." As she opened the door, Senga glanced cautiously around the doorway. Upon seeing nobody on the stairs, she advanced. Leaving the relative safety of her flat, going into the apparent hell that had arrived on her doorstep.

At the mouth of the tenement building, there were still smouldering shards of metal, and in the garden directly under Mrs Henderson's window, the grass and hedgerows were still ablaze. Through the smoke Senga could easily see figures staggering around, injured, dazed, confused. None of them could have imagined what had just happened. They hadn't expected the old bird to put up any resistance, never mind her going ballistic on them, literally.

A few still standing Orange-men stared at Senga, angry. "You!" One of them shouted angrily. "Ma boy telt me that you flung him doon a set o' stairs."

"Aye. Ye'r boy wiz tryin' to kill an auld wummin. A wiznae gonnae stand back an' let that happen. Anyhow, I think you'll find I saved him fae third degree burns." Senga rolled her eyes in bemusement.

"Ya wee feinian lovin' bitch." Senga saw the fist coming, almost before the swing started, she dodged it easily. Grabbing the man by the wrist and spinning him, almost on the spot, and hurling him a few meters away. It wouldn't cause any major damage, unless you counted his pride. She then found herself set upon by the remaining members of the group. Eight figures descended upon her, kicking, punching, and she could scarcely believe it, biting and pulling her hair.

Senga fought valiantly, but then she heard a noise. A frighteningly familiar noise. The sound of a Stanley knife blade, clicking as it was extended from it's holder. "Keep back dad." Senga shouted, "Wan o' them's got a blade." There was a sound of panic in her voice that brought a chill to her father's heart. He decided to stop standing on the sidelines, and threw himself into the melee.

The fight became a confusing mass of figures, heaving and throwing, writhing as a living creature, an angry living creature. The beast stopped at the sound of a scream. A cry of pain, ending swiftly. The crowd parted, to reveal two figures, who had obviously been at the base of the pile. Senga stood, and looked at the fallen man, her eyes filled with tears and fire as she recognised him. Her father lay on the ground before her, mortally wounded by the idiotic use of a blade. Senga's eyes caught a glimpse of the weapon, as it was stowed away in a pocket, before the owner of the pocket could get away, Senga's hand was around his neck, in a vice like grip, the man found himself lifted off the ground, Senga's grip tightened even more, the blade appeared again in his hand. With her free hand Senga grabbed his wrist and broke it easily. "You killed my da' you bastard." Senga practically spat the words at the man she now held as though he were a rag doll. She released his now broken wrist, but kept her tight grip on his throat. He was beginning to turn strange shades of red. Senga noticed out of the side of her eye, that the rest of the mob had begun advancing again. She didn't care. The important thing to her in that precise moment, was keeping a tight grip on the man who had killed her father.

She didn't need to check his body, she knew in her heart and in her soul that he was gone. The world seemed darker now, after years of hating her father, she had only just begun to know him again. Now this man had taken him from her. The fire behind her eyes grew brighter, she could feel it, and now it seemed as though her victim could see it. Now he knew he would not get out of this alive. Senga realised the same thing, if she killed him, she wouldn't be the same again. The most startling thing Senga realised, she didn't care. Why should she care. The world had screwed her out of both of her parents now. So why should she give a damn.

"Senga, look out." Jean's voice rang out, instantly focussing Senga's thoughts, she sensed movement behind her, spinning around, easily carrying her victim, she found two men trying to stealthily approach, Senga swung the man she held by the throat, as though he were a club. Her 'weapon's' feet struck heavily on her targets heads, they fell hard. Senga allowed herself a grim smile of satisfaction. So angry was Senga, that she didn't even notice the change in the atmosphere. There was a red hue to the clouds. An equally scarlet tinged mist was descending towards ground level. Jean and the other men noticed it too, and those of them who hadn't been afraid before, were terrified now.

Elsewhere.

"Now that is interesting. What exactly is it?" A hand reached for the weapon. Blue flame filled the air and the owner of the hand found himself thrown backwards. Another hand tried to grab the weapon, more slender, but much stronger, even this hand was rejected.

"What the?..." A female voice ended mid question as the weapon vanished. "Not again." The voice was filled with exasperation.

Senga.

The world was turning red, anger came with the colour. No one could seem to escape from the feelings induced by the mist. The supposedly rhetorical 'red mist' surrounded everyone, everything. With the exception of Jean, and Senga. With clear eyes Jean noticed the shift in the people around her. Anger seemed to seethe in the air, Senga seemed to be part of it. Jean ran to her friend, worried for her. "Senga. Stop this, it's no you. It's this fog thing." Senga looked at her friend through near vacant eyes.

"Fog? Whit fog?" Senga's eyes lost even more focus as she looked at Jean. Her friend grabbed her by the shoulders, Senga didn't' even resist when Jean began shaking her. She had become so totally detatched, the world around her seemed less than a dream, fading into a background of nothingness. Punctuated by blue flames. "Now that's pretty." Senga commented. "Pretty fire, all blue and glowy." Jean stunned by this, looked around her looking for another fire, she found none, but her panic grew. Suddenly she screamed, as she saw, and felt, the blue flames. They seemed to envelop Senga, pouring over her, and coalescing in her free hand. Jean noticed a shape forming in the flames. It looked a wee bit like an axe. She also noticed the look on Senga's face, it was almost beatific. Calm again, at peace. Her eyes glowed, the same shade of blue as the flames around her. This wasn't just a reflection of the flames though, this fire came from deep within Senga, Jean knew it.

"Now I know." Senga whispered. She let her father's killer drop to the ground, as she held the axe aloft. High above her head, the axe flared again. Blue light emanated and flew in all directions from the axe, acting as a central point.

As the light flowed over everything, the red glow vanished, replaced by the gentle blue glow. The anger subsided. The crowd began to look at each other, wondering why they were all there, why that garden was on fire, and why the girl in front of them was waving a sharp axe at them. The crowd quickly dispersed. Some paused to look at the body lying on the ground, the pool of blood went ignored, nobody wanted to think about it. The crowd drifted apart. Senga lowered the Axe. Her gaze fell also, again resting on the prone form of her father.

The Axe spoke to her. THE slayer was needed. The world needed her. Now more than ever before. The true slayer must rise.


End file.
